Page 75 (1/2)

1

It was Monday, Deceet a fix on the mood I was in, which was bad, bad, bad, comprised of equal parts irritation and un-easiness The irritation was generated by a bank notice I'd just received, one of those ed nuh At first, I assumed I was overdrawn, but what I pulled out was a slip, dated Friday, Dece account

"What the hell is this?" I said

The account number was correct, but the deposit wasn't mine In my experience, banks are the least helpful institutions on earth, and the notion of having to stop what I was doing to straighten out an error was nearlyto re-clai ready to write up the preliminary report on an insurance case I'd been asked to look into, and Darcy, the secretary at California Fidel-ity, had just buzzed to say that Mac wanted the file on his desk right away Mentally, I'd coes-tion about what she could do with herself, but I'd kept ht) admirable restraint

I turned back tothe proper forers were poised to type while I reviewedwas off and I couldn't figure out what it was I glanced at the bank notice again

Almost with an eye toward the co the diversion would helpme about the situation at Wood/War-ren, a local coen furnaces for industrial use They'd had a fire out there on December 19 that had destroyed a warehouse

"Mrs Brunswick, Customer Service May I help you?"

"Well, I hope so," I said "I just received a notice say-ing I put five thousand dollars inaccount last Friday and I didn't do that Is there any way you can straighten it out?"

"May I have your name and account number, please?"

"Kinsey Millhone," I said, supplying my account num-ber in slow, measured tones

She put me on hold briefly while she called up the records on her computer terminal Meanwhile, I listened to the bank's rendition of "Good King Wenceslas," which I've personally never understood What's the Feast of Ste-phen?